


A Thousand More

by Budgiechan



Category: Harvest Moon, 牧場物語つながる新天地 | Story of Seasons
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5869051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Budgiechan/pseuds/Budgiechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've known each other since they were naught but children...</p><p>A story written for the Starry Night Exchange on Tumblr, retelling the story of the Witch Princess and the Harvest Goddess over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand More

They’ve known each other since they were naught but children.

It makes the Witch Princess laugh to remember how they’d met- how young and naïve they’ve both been. She, a fledgling witch on her own for the first time,   and _her_ , a new Goddess in much the same position, tossed into cohabitation by a single misunderstanding, a grave mistake that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

How many centuries had they coexisted in that sleepy hamlet together, living side-by-side as ‘boss’ and ‘lacky?’ When had they both grown tired of the charade- who had thrown the first stone and broken that fragile truce, made a thousand years ago when they were little more than brats?

The Witch Princess doesn’t know- and wishes she didn’t care so much. Still, a thousand years is a long time to be acquainted with a person, even for a magical being such as herself. She’d be lying to herself if she tried to deny their bond. That curiosity still burns inside of her to this day- to know who they might have been, who they will be to each other in the future.

The Witch Princess snorts as she stirs her cauldron, the image of the Harvest Goddess within dissolving into another, more familiar one. The elders of the Coven would laugh at her for this sentimentality, for her frankly un-witchlike behavior. She doesn’t much care, however- she hadn’t gotten to become the Princess by following convention, after all.

“Well,” She murmured, staring down at the image of two little girls- a goddess and a witch. “they say to unravel a mystery, you have to start at the beginning.”

And so she would.

~ ~ ~

“Witchie! Witchie, guess what?”

“Ouch!” Witchkins dropped her ladle back into the cauldron before her, hissing as she sucked on her burned fingers. Angry amethyst eyes shot daggers at the green-haired goddess, who’d come killing in just then, practically levitating off the ground in her excitement.

“Dessie! Can’t you read?” She jabbed a finger at the sign that had just fluttered to the ground behind the other girl. “No bustin’ in when I’m brewin’!”

“Sorry!” There was a decided note of not-sorry in Dessie’s voice- there always was with her. Witchkins wasn’t positive the emotion even _existed_ for her- for goddesses in general. “I just had to tell you the bestest news ever!”

“I… I guess this potion can wait,” Witchkins said reluctantly, wandering over to Dessie with her arms crossed over her chest. “And for the last time, it’s  _Witchkins_!”

“But Witchie is so much cuter!”

They must have had this conversation a thousand times by now, Witchkins thought as her head throbbed- and they’d only been living together for a month now. She strongly suspected that the other girl’s brains were made of cotton candy- with room only for thoughts of food, cute animals, and that _awful_ catchphrase of hers.

“Dessie-”

“ _Anyway_ , Witchie, you won’t believe what happened today!”

Honestly, she wasn’t even sure why she tried with Dessie anymore. Rolling her eyes, Witchkins walked to their table, waving her hand so that two mugs followed her from the kitchenette to the table. The mugs plopped onto the wood surface at her command and, with another flick of her wrist, they filled to the brim with piping hot cocoa.

Being magical had its perks.

“You finally managed a blessing?” She asked flatly, blowing over her drink. She barely managed to hide her grin at Dessie’s pout, her stoic mask breaking as the goddess slid into the seat beside her. “Seriously, Dess? After _all_ this time?” She cackled. “You _sure_ you’re an actual goddess and not a trainee?”

“Oh hush!” Dessie fumed. “It’s not that easy! Blessings are sacred and- and they require a _lot_ of effort!”

“They’re the bare minimum a goddess should be able to do.” Witchkins smirked over the rim of her mug. “But hey, if you’re not up to the task, I could take over. I’ve got a couple of good ones that would _really_ liven this place up…”

Dessie confused Witchkins, to say the least. For a full-fledged goddess, she was _awful_ with magic- worse than Witchkins, a fledgling witch. Then again, Witchkins couldn’t remember a time when she _hadn’t_ been casting spells. Back when she’d lived with her horrid aunt on the Sunshine Islands, she’d practiced magic from dawn to dusk, often collapsing from magical exhaustion. And here was a full-fledged goddess, unable to do a _blessing_.

Her aunt had had a point about goddesses, Witchkins thought, sipping at her cocoa. They really _were_ a mediocre bunch, garnering maximum praise for minimal effort. If anyone should be praised, _worshiped_ for their work, it should be the witches. Curses, after all, took more effort than blessings…

“Witchie, are you listening?”

Ah, right.

“Mmm?” She grunted noncommittally, sipping at her cocoa. “Yeah?”

“I _said_ I gave my first gift today!” She giggled uncontrollably, levitating out of her seat. “To that farmer who always comes visiting.”

“ _That_ pest?” Witchkins paused. “Wait. You gave _him_ a gift? Isn’t that his job?”

“I just wanted to thank him,” Dessie whined, tears welling in her eyes. “I picked a perfect gift too.”

“You’re supposed to thank them with blessings, Dess, not-” She stopped. Dessie was _such_ a crybaby, and she didn’t feel like dealing with the waterworks just now. “All right. What’d you give him?”

“A cherry!” Just like that, Dessie was back to her bubbly self. “It was the reddest, roundest, most sweetest one!”

“… you gave a farmer _produce_?”

“Yep! An’ he _loved_ it!” Dessie got to her feet, humming as she floated towards the mirror she’d put up recently, near the entryway to their little house “And her liked my greeting too. He said it was cute.”

“It, or _you_?” To Witchkins’ amusement and amazement, Dessie turned bright red. “Well?”

“Y-you hush!” Dessie stammered. “And listen to this.” She cleared her throat loudly. “Dum da da daaaa!”

“Eugh.” Witchkins made a face. “Really? More catchphrases? And you want to go with that one?”

“The farmer liked it,” Dessie hummed, fluffing her long, green hair with a giggle. “I think it’s a keeper.” As Witchkins got up to stand behind her, their eyes met in the mirror. “You know you, don’t have to be so jealous. I’m sure the farmer would like you too, if only you were nicer.”

“Me, nice?” Witchkins laughed. “I’m a _witch_. We don’t exactly operate on being _nice_.”

“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt.” Dessie shrugged, brushing past Witchkins on her way to the door. “Anyway, I’m gonna go check on the sprites. See you later.”

Witchkins stared at the small goddess as she left, shaking her head in disbelief.

Her, jealous? She wasn’t jealous- why would she be? She’d seen first-hand what being too close to a human could do to a magical witch- to a witch It was a human, after all, who’d captured her auntie’s blackened heart and cost her her first home. It was thanks to a human that she’d been forced to this remote little town- where she’d been forced to start anew, with a goddess for a roommate.

Let Dessie fraternize with the human if she wanted- goddesses derived their powers from the, after all, and the hopeless deity needed all the help she could get. Witchkins, however, needed none of it- she was a self-made witch, after all, who got her powers from chaos and meddling as any good witch should. The hard-work didn’t hurt either- which reminded her that she needed to go practice flying soon, before the sun set. She moved towards her broom, hesitating for a moment before returning to the table.

Hard work could wait; hot chocolate came first.

~ ~ ~

The image of the little girl surrounded by frog plushies fades as the Witch Princess stirs her cauldron thoughtfully, considering. With the exception of a few, meaningless squabbles, they’d gotten on well for the first two hundred years of their cohabitation- remarkable for two beings of their background. It _certainly_ wasn’t the case anymore- which is why she’d had to recruit that human into helping her.

Farmers. What was it about those silly caretakers of the land and their singular ability to get involved with her and with Dessie- the Harvest Goddess, as she was calling herself now. Perhaps, the Witch Princess thinks as a new image forms in her cauldron, that was where the rift between them had begun- when Dessie’s fascination with humans had crossed the line into full-blown infatuation.

“Fool,” She murmurs as a gangly green-haired goddess enters the scene in the cauldron, dressed in a skimpy outfit that is a far cry from the modest one she’d worn when they’d first met. Her younger self, all hair and no fashion sense, looks up, as if in response. “Nothing good comes of getting close to humans. Didn’t I warn you?” Her gaze falls upon an old picture frame on her bedside table, her younger self grinning besides her stoic aunt- the Witch Princess whose title she’d inherited, because of her love for a human. “How many times did I warn you, Dess?”

Too many times to count.

~ ~ ~

“Witchie!”

Witchkins looked up from the fire, brushing wet, blonde hair from her face. She stared at the furious goddess who’d just stormed in from the tempest outside- the tempest _she’d_ created, all on her own. Despite the cold she’d inevitably get from cavorting about in her creation, she was proud of this new spell. With this, the Coven would have no choice but to notice her prowess- and maybe, just maybe, they’d find her worthy of her aunt’s old title.

It’s a nice thought, anyway.

“Hey, Dess.” She waved a lazy hand at her roommate, taking in the drenched green hair, the goose bumps standing out against bare, wet skin. She was probably pissed about getting caught in the downpour. “Sorry for not warning you. I just couldn’t wait for you to come home- isn’t it great?” She grinned, dizzy with success. “My first tempest! I think next time I’ll aim bigger. Like, a tornado, or-”

“You _killed_ him.” For the first time, Witchkins noticed Dessie’s face- her eyes swimming with tears, but her face utterly dry. “How _could_ you?”

“Who?” Witchkins asked blankly, crooking her finger so that two mugs could drit her way from the kitchenette. One came directly to her hands, the hot cocoa warmed further by the heat of the fire- the other floated towards Dessie. “Here, sit down. You’re definitely going to have a cold tomorrow but- here, it’s your favorite. Strawberry milk. I didn’t even alter the recipe this time- well, only a little-”

The shattering of the mug against the far wall put a stop to her rambling, and she stared at a furious Dessie in disbelief.

“I don’t _want_ your stupid strawberry milk!” Her whole body trembled, her green eyes flashing pure hatred. “Why’d you do it, Witchie? Do you hate me that much?”

“Do _what_?” Witchkins hopped to her feet. Her story was meant to do a lot of things, but not kill- she wasn’t that kind of witch.

Yet.

“Spit it out, Dess, I’m not a mind reader!”

“You killed Lappy.” Dessie’s voice broke. “He prayed to me for him, and you and your freak storm _killed_ him!”

She vaguely recalled a Lappy- some sickly newborn lamb Dessie’d been harping on about for a solid month. The farmer over at Greenhill Farm had begged _Dessie_ , of all people, for her assistance.

Accidents happened all the time in her line of work. Being a witch, after all, was about mastering the art of chaos- and as every good witch knew, chaos could never truly be mastered. Magic was about balance, about give and take. For ever boon, there had to be a price paid.

She’d just never expected hers to be so personal.

“Dessie… I had no control over that.” She wasn’t sorry, exactly, but she _did_ feel some remorse for the animal. “You know I didn’t.”

“You summoned this storm, Witchie- d’ya have any idea what you’ve done?” The goddess snapped. “Unprecedented damages to te roadways, the farmland, the shops- it’s going to take the humans _years_ to recover!”

“Yeah?” She smiled despite herself- a toll like that, the Coven couldn’t afford to ignore her. They wouldn’t dare. “Good for Oak Tree, then. It’s been so _boring_ here since what’s-his-face case and livened this place up. It’s overdue for some action- wake _up_ , people! Three hundred years is _far_ too long to go in peace. You should have been expecting this!”

“Why?” Dessie accused. “What did they do to deserve this? Enjoy their peace? That’s no crime, Witchie!”

“But it _is_!” Witchkins hissed. “It goes against the Laws- I had to balance the scales, Dess. Too much peace without chaos… it’s wrong. Invites disaster.”

“Yeah. From _you_.” Dessie’s tears had dried up, and the air around her crackled with magic- powerful magic. Witchkins’s blood hummed in response- Dessie was her lackey, but winning a fight with her would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that she deserved, nay, _needed_ to be the next Witch Princess. “I know you did this on purpose, Witchkins. You always were so jealous of me-”

“Me, jealous? Of you? _Hah_!” Witchkins laughed hard, sobering as a realization hit her. “Wait- you and _him_?”

Lately, Dessie’s fascination with the local humans had taken a turn for the worst. Her confidence in her goddess abilities had skyrocketed as she’d begun to spend more and more time with the farmer from Greenhill Farm- the many-greats great-grandson of the original, bumbling owner. It didn’t behoove a witch   of her status to _care_ about Dessie’s dalliance, of course, but she _was_ Witchkins’ lackey. She had to care- her actions reflected back on to her, and thus her romantic delusions had to end. It was Witchkins duty as her boss to set her straight.

“We don’t need humans, Dess,” She’d admonished her one day, a few months back. “They need _us_. You need to remember that-”

“Why? Dessie had smirked, an unusual expression for her- though she’d been doing it more often, lately. “Word on the vine is your aunt, the _Witch Princess_ , married a human.”

With that simple statement, she’d shut Witchkins down, forcing her to drop the subject. Sure, her aunt had married a _stupid_ human- but it had cost her. Her position, her throne in the Coven- everything she’d worked so hard for, all her life. And for what? The fool hadn’t even lasted half a century- her aunt was alone again, and powerless to boot.

Yes, it was better for all involved to just stay out of romantic dalliances- with each other and _especially_ with those short-lived humans.

Why didn’t Dessie see that?

“Why’d you do it, Witchie?” Dessie asked again. “Why can’t you just let me be happy?”

“Because we’re _magical being_ ,” She snapped, at wit’s end. “And lest you forget, I’m a _witch_ , not a stupid goddess. This is what we do! My _reputation_ is at stake here-”

“And what about mine?” Dessie fired back. “Mine is-”

“The Coven is _watching_ me, Dess! I’m not like you- I still have to prove myself. I’ve got too much at stake here! If I just let this place be all… _peaceful_ ,” She spat the word out, making a face. “I couldn’t call myself a real witch.”

“And what about me-”

“This is who we _are,_ Dessie! This is what we do!” She spread her hands wide. “If you’re mad at me, get even! Call up a miracle and bring the stupid lamb back!”

“I _can’t_.” Dessie’s voice broke. “It goes against our Laws… he’s gone. Forever.”

“ _Boring_.” Witchkins sniffed. “You goddesses are so _lame_. Resurrection is so easy. In fact, _I_ could do it- _if_ I were so inclined.”

It was the closest she’d ever get to a blatant offer. Witchkins stared at Dessie imploringly, wordlessly begging her to make the right decision- but she’d plowed on, completely consumed by her fury.

“Well I’m _not_ a witch! I won’t break the laws of nature-”

“Not even to help old lover boy?” She clucked her tongue, truly disappointed. “What a shame.”

“He’s- he’s _not_ my boyfriend. He’s my friend- _was_ my friend, until you _murdered_ his animal-”

“It was an unintended _side effect_ , Dessie! Chill out already!” Witchkins was ready to pull out her hair- this had ceased to be fun ages back. “Yeesh.”

“Was ruining _my_ reputation here as the Harvest Goddess one of your ‘unintended side effects?’” Dessie’s eyes flashed pure hatred, which surprised Witchkins- till today, she’d never thought the goddess capable of any emotion stronger than mild annoyance. But today was a day for surprises, it seemed. “He was one of the few people here who truly believed- believed in _me_. And now- and now-”

“You’re going to blame _me_ for that?” Witchkins asked incredulously. “Dess, you’ve got to be _kidding_ me- you cannot blame me for this one. One stupid animal struck by lightning doesn’t ruin a reputation- but false blessings do!” She plowed on, wrapped up in her words- the heady power of the truth behind them. “You _can’t_ promise eternal protection for an _animal_. That’s just stupid! Man, if you’d just been better at your job in the _first_ place, none of this would have-”

“And so it comes out.” Dessie’s voice was quiet, empty. “You never once believed in me, did you? Not once in all these years- tell me, what was the point   in us moving in together?”

“ _You_ were the one who moved in, remember?” Witchkins huffed. “It was _my_ house to begin with!”

“You-” She faltered. “You should have kicked me out then!”

“And lose the chance to live with- to study my rival?” It’s the closest she can get to the truth without compromising her reputation. “Living with a goddess… no witch has _ever_ done that before. All we have on your kind is hearsay- but I’ve gathered information as no witch has done before. The information I’ve collected on you over the centuries has made me the foremost expert on goddesses in the Coven!” Sure, a lot of it was useless information, like her weakness for strawberries and bunny rabbits, but Dessie didn’t need to know that. “I know more about your kind than any witch in history!”

“… So that’s all our friendship was to you?” Dessie asked finally, softly. “Just… just some study?”

“W-what friendship?” Witchkins stammered, embarrassed. “Witches don’t befriend _goddesses_. I’m your _boss_. You’re my lackey! That’s all we are!”

“Fine then, _boss_. Consider your study over- and my ‘lackey-ship.’” Energy gathered and surged around the irritated goddess- the most powerful display of magic she’d ever displayed in the time they’d known each other. “I’m _leaving_!”

“G-good riddance!” Witchkins shouted, her pride wounded and her ire aroused. “I don’t need a lackey like you- you’re useless to me anyway! Who- who uses a word like ‘lackey-ship’ anyway?!” As Dessie disappeared in a puff of smoke, the faint feeling of hurt she felt at being so easily cast away yet _again_ faded into hot anger. “Go on, _run_! Find some other village to live in- like I care! I was here first!”

The storm outside doubled in intensity, and she felt a power surge through her veins unlike any she’d ever felt before.

“You dumb goddesses,” She murmured, feeling the magic spark in her fingertips. “You’re always so needy. This is why witches will rule supreme!”

She cackled, walking out into the rain again. As the rain soaked her clothes and hair, an ache started in her chest- too much power, perhaps? She zapped a nearby tree into cinders, surprised when the pain only grew. The last time she’d felt a pain like this… was the day her aunt had kicked her out, all those centuries ago.

“Get lost, Dess,” She murmured, clutching the broach of her cloak. The ridges of the little skull pressed uncomfortably into her palm. “You’ve outlived your use to me. I don’t need you anymore… or anyone else.”

~ ~ ~

The image dissolves in a burst of light, and the Witch Princess sighs. Dropping her ladle, she abandons the cauldron for the moment, retreating across the room to her ingredients cabinet to rummage.

She hadn’t seen Dessie for another few centuries after that. Over three hundred tumultuous years had passed, and everything had changed. Her aunt had finally given up the ghost, and her crown- _she’d_ become the new Witch Princess, ruler supreme of the Unholy Coven. There’d been no time to dwell on the sad little goddess who’d been her roommate- there’d been too much to do. After centuries of being an underdog, she’d finally become the boss- and she had to let everyone know it. The Coven had to be reformed from the inside, the leadership reformed to suit _her_ purposes, the inhabitants of Oak Tree reintroduced to her in her full capacity. She had to flex her magical muscles and prove herself more than worthy of her title and position- and she had, with gusto.

After centuries of this, she’d grown tired, bored. Oak Tree was too sleepy for her, the inhabitants’ terror at her play no longer amusing, just tedious. She wanted something new- a change of pace, a place that was both exciting and unfamiliar.

“Tail of salamander, eye of newt.” The Witch Princess plucks two vials from her cabinet, lazily emptying them into her potion. A new image begins to form as she stirs her cauldron, one of a familiar pond and an even more familiar head of blonde hair- herself, not even a hundred years ago, when she’d first moved to the Forget Me Not Valley.

“Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble…”

The potion frothed, poured black smoke- but the image remained crystal clear as her younger self approached a small, clean spring in the middle of a clearing.

Three hundred years apart, and this was when they’d met again…

~ ~ ~

“There’s got to be orange grass around here somewhere…”

She’d left Oaktree in the fall, her exit as abrupt as her entrance. This time, she’d chosen not to bother with creating a residence- it was too much effort, and she wanted to blend into her surroundings this time. The place she’d found wasn’t so much a house as it was a shack- a shack in the shadow of an opulent mansion that reminded her of the one she’d grown up in, on a tiny island far across the sea. At times, it felt as if she’d never left home.

Forget-Me-Not Valley was a convenient location for her to set up shop- midway between many towns of note, it afforded her a good command center. True, it was somewhat-sleepier than Oak Tree, but it was infinitely more fun. The inhabitants fell easily for her pranks, and the air and earth teemed with magical potential. Even better still was the existence of an abandoned Goddess Pond, which still teemed with magic energy left behind by the previous inhabitant- for the Witch Princess, who’d always had to generate her own, it was a godsend. The grasses and herbs that sprouted nearby were the best she’d ever encountered, more potent for her witchcraft because of the abundance of magical energy nearby. Truly, she’d stumbled upon paradise- and she wouldn’t leave it for anything.

“Ouch!”

The crushed can flew through the air, the rusted edge glistening a wet red with the blood that still leaked from the Witch Princess’ sliced index finger. With a splash, it landed in the still waters of the Goddess pond, floating on the surface. With a howl, she stuck her finger into her mouth, swearing profusely. Breaking skin to summon her familiar was one thing, but she _hated_ shedding her blood otherwise. It was such a waste, after all- the blood of the most powerful witch in the land, shed by a mere _can_?

It took all she had in her not to hex the thing into the next dimension.

Suddenly, the pond began to glow with a bright, white light, a low humming sounding all around her. The Witch Princess stared, her eyes wide as a familiar form began to materialize.

Suddenly, her spilled blood didn’t matter so much.

“Dum da da daaa!” A green-haired goddess spun up from the water, floating above its surface. “It is I, the _amazing_ Harvest Goddess-”

“ _Dessie_?!”

Time had treated her well- perhaps too well. Gone was the shy, waifish goddess she’d known, replaced by a tall, well-shaped woman with a certain disregard for clothing- the Witch Princess had never seen such a skimpy outfit before. Then again, her predecessors claimed this was the standard garb for goddesses. Still, it was jarring- she could hardly recognize the girl she’d known in the woman floating before her.

Only her eyes were the same anymore.

“Witchie. “ She was shocked too, confused even. “What are you doing here?”

“I- I _live_ here.” The shock had worn off, and the Witch Princess was on the defensive. “What about you?”

“This is the _Goddess Pond_. Witchie. What do you think I’m doing here?” She sniffed at the can the Witch Princess had inadvertently tossed into her pond, forcing it to levitate beside her with a wave of her hand. “I have to say, I don’t much appreciate your… _offering_.”

“That… that was an accident. I mean!” The surprising display of magic control by someone she’d always considered to be awful had thrown her off her game, and the Witch Princess stiffened in embarrassment. “I thought I told you to get lost, Dess.”

“I _did_ \- and found this place. Isn’t it divine? So much magic to tap into… it’s a dream don’t you agree?” The Goddess’ eyes narrowed. “But this is _my_ home. I was here first. So I guess you’re just going to have to deal, Witch. Or get lost yourself.”

With a puff of smoke, she was gone, the can dropping back into the water. The Witch Princess was left alone once again, consumed by anger.

Oh, she’d deal, all right. She’d deal _so_ good that that Harvest Goddess would regret ever talking down to her. She was royalty, after all- her Wicked Eminence, the Witch Princess of the most Unholy Coven.

And royalty bowed their heads to no one.

~ ~ ~

A knock at the door shakes her from her thoughts, and she abandons her potion to answer it.

“What?” She barks, softening when she recognizes her visitor. “Oh. _You_.”

“Hi.” The farmer tips his hat- a habit that had once started as nerves, but had evolved over time into somewhat of an inside joke between the two of them. “Are you nervous?”

“Feh,” She spits, summoning her cloak from the wall with a flick of her fingers. It settles around her shoulders easily, and she quickly secures it with her skull clip. “Don’t be stupid. Witch Princesses don’t get nervous.”

“It’s okay to be, you know,” The stupid man continues, smiling in that disgustingly innocent way of his. “After all, she was your first friend, and-”

“Stop talking before I turn you into a frog!” She stalks past him, stopping by the door with an impatient tap of her foot. “Well? Hurry up, boy. I don’t have all day.”

“Y-yes ma’am.” He’s not the smartest of lackeys, but he does pay her the proper amount of respect, opening the door for her and holding it as she stalks out into the bright afternoon sun. “After you.”

Stupid, but a keeper nonetheless.

Friends… how cute. They were the farthest things from friends, even back then- friends didn’t ruin each other’s reputations, meddle in the other’s affairs. They didn’t sabotage each other, fight duels at night under the light of the moon- stopping only when exhaustion and the first rays of dawn forced them to draw.

Friends certainly didn’t turn each other to stone, or send each other to alternate dimensions.

As the door closes behind the pair, the scene in the cauldron shifts again, for the last time. A lone voice bubbles up from the concoction, plaintive and dismayed.

_“What have I done?”_

~ ~ ~

She’d only meant to shut her up.

Dessie’d always had the worst timing in the world. Bursting in during spells that needed utmost concentration, breaking vials of ingredients crucial to Witchkin’s latest brew- showing up with her annoying ‘ta-daaaa’ when the Witch Princess was suffering her worst headache of the century. For her inability to display any sort of tact, she’d deserved the first petrifying spell that had hit her- even though the Witch had cast it purely on instinct, not on purpose.

The second spell, where she’d been sent off to another dimension, was perhaps overkill.

“What have I done?”

It was a monumental screw up, unbefitting of a Witch Princess. She was much too old now to be making rookie mistakes- to be so foolish as to act on her emotions without a second thought. She’d just wanted a moment of silence, and now she was scrambling to perform damage control. Already, the land was starting to react to the Harvest Goddess’ absence- magic was leaking, disappearing into the atmosphere. And she was trying her best, she really was- but her head was killing her, and she was so _tired_ from all of her and Dessie’s midnight magic fights.

Perhaps that was why she’d turned to him, in the end.

“You came at the right time,” She’d greeted the quivering, freshman farmer. Poor sucker- he’d run into her on accident on his first day, and she’d never give him a moment’s peace from that moment. “You saw what happened, right?”

He’d nodded, petrified still of her even after all this time- behavior befitting a lackey of such a powerful boss like her. Dessie could have stood to learn from his example…

Just the thought of her dearly departed rival makes her heart clench.

“So _you_ have to work very hard.” She’d chirped, offering him a smile she didn’t quite feel. “Do your best.”

He’d expressed confusion, dismay, even outright refusal- but in the end, he’d bent to her will, as he should. After she’d sent him on his way, the Witch Princess had returned to her home to think over her actions- to worry, or come as close to it as she could. For as boring as life would be without Dessie- for as inconvenient as it’d be not to have someone to squabble with, for the loss of the easily-tapped magic source that was somehow linked to the world’s weakest Harvest Goddess- another, more troubling feeling accompanied the Goddess’ disappearance.

Loneliness.

“Work hard, farmer,” She murmured, picking up a voodoo doll from her self- the one with the tiny blue hat, and the crooked shy smile. “I’m counting on you.”

After all, what was a boss without her most important lackey?

~ ~ ~

It’s the height of irony to the Witch Princess that a farmer, in the end, is to blame both for their falling out, as well as their reunion.

“Well, here goes.”

She stands silently by as he tosses a moon drop flower into the still pond, stepping back as the water begins to glow.

“Good luck.”

And then, it’s just the two of them, standing face-to-face for the first time in ages.

“Witch.”

“Dess.” She coughs, the words that need to come next sticking in her throat. “I’m-”

“I forgive you.” There’s a familiar twinkle in her eyes, and the faintest of smiles plays about her lips. “I know how you hate to apologize, Witchie.”

“Dessie…”

“And it’s my job, after all.” Now she smiles, and it’s mature, benevolent- two things she’d never really been before. It strikes Witchie then that perhaps, for as much growing up as she’d done over the past three hundred years apart, Dessie had done her own grown up, too. “To bestow blessings upon the land and forgive those who’ve gone astray.”

“Feh.” The Witch Princess sniffed. “Finally doing your job right, Dess?”

“I have you to thank as well…” The Harvest Goddess looks thoughtful. “The time away gave me time to think. We are a Goddess and a Witch, are we not?”

“A Witch _Princess_ ,” She corrects, but she is listening. “Continue.”

“It’s our duty to meddle in the other’s affairs but I think… I think we needn’t try to destroy each other, you know?”

“Indeed.” The Witch Princess smirks. “It’s not right, after all, for a lackey to try and take out her boss.”

“Hah.” The Goddess shakes her head in disapproval, but she’s smiling. “Even after all this time, huh?”

“Well-”

“So you’ve made up then?” The farmer’s cheerful voice startles the both of them, and the small ‘eep’ of surprise that escapes his lips when they turn to stare at him in unison is rewarding. “I- I mean, you’re friends again, right?”

“Hmm…” The Goddess yawns. “It seems I’m a little more tired than I’d thought. I better go. By the way?” She pauses, her mysterious smile turning mischievous. “I liked that last offering.” She winks at the Witch Princess, before waving her hand. “Bye now.”

“H-hey! Lackey!” The Witch Princess calls as her form fades away. “Don’t you dare forget who’s the strongest one between us, hear?”

“Roger that, boss.” The Harvest Goddess’ voice comes back to them from across the divide, even though she’s already faded away for good. “I won’t forget. _I’m_ the best.”

“That annoying Goddess…!!!”

“Well!” The farmer laughs happily. “All’s well that ends well, right, milady?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up before I hex you?” The Witch Princess snaps, grinning despite herself. “You did… a passable job, I suppose. I won’t fire you this time.”

“W-what?” He blinks, confused. “Fire…?”

“You’re a useful errand-boy. I’ll keep you in mind for the next time.”

“The next time- you aren’t going to do this _again_ , are you?”

“Be gone now.” She waves her hand, muttering an incantation under her breath. With a surprised shout, he disappears, and she poofs away in the same instant, reappearing in her own house, alone.

Home sweet home.

With brisk steps, she returns to her cauldron, smiling as she notes that the blackened, bubbling mess has settled into a clear, calm liquid.

It is done.

“Perfect.” She dips a bottle into the concoction, coking it and affixing a label to the font. “On to the next, then.”

The ‘Memories’ potion is placed upon a high shelf, beside a dusty, cracked picture frame. It is ignored entirely as the Witch Princess performs cleanup duty, preparing for her next greatest creation. From the broken class, two little girls in sepia hues grin recklessly, posing before a little house wearing a witch’s cap.

It’s good to have her number one lackey back again.

~ End~

 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> >Thanks for popping in. This was a fun one to write- the prompt was WP and HG being friends... I, of course, spun it way out of control.
> 
> >Enjoy! And if you have any feedback feel free to send it to me!


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